


It's Your Goodbye

by dreamsandlove



Series: Random Roswell New Mexico Fics [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Addiction, Addictive Behaviors, Alcohol Abuse, Broken Michael, Drug Abuse, Emotional pain, Heavy Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Self destructive patterns, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 01:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsandlove/pseuds/dreamsandlove
Summary: Michael is broken and seeks out Alex.





	It's Your Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Michael Guerin week, Day 2: Distance/Space Cowboy. I was in a mood and it's only angst/pain for Michael. Very different than anything else I've ever written.
> 
> Inspired by Red Hot Chili Pepper's, [Brendan's Death Song](https://youtu.be/smu6_m3FNMI)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

Michael is sitting in his truck trying to muster up enough courage to walk through the doors of the bar. It’s been almost a year since he’s seen Alex, but rumor has it the man started playing open mic nights at Saturn’s Rings. The first time he heard that he scoffed, no way Alex Manes takes the stage again, not since their senior year of high school. The second time he heard it, it seemed more plausible. Apparently, he was working his way through the acoustic versions of Red Hot Chili Pepper songs, and _that _definitely sounded like Alex. Over the weeks and weeks Michael kept hearing about how Alex Manes was drawing the biggest crowds in town, bringing down the house with his soulful renditions of well known (and lesser known) rock songs. 

So here he is, attempting to connect with the man that’s been so lost to him. 

After 6 months of dating, Maria finally gave up on him. Micheal’s drinking and brawling getting worse and worse, even after they figured out how to bring Max back. He’d been a complete disaster, distraught and inconsolable, plagued by images of Caufield and the horror he witnessed. Every time Michael closed his eyes he saw his mother, her gentle face destroyed right in front of him. In sleep, he could nearly feel her pain. All those years kept away, like an animal, tortured by the US military and Jesse Manes. That monster, that destroyer, haunted Michael’s dreams. All of the love he felt in this world (for Alex, for his mother, even his siblings) was twisted up with his worst nightmares and most vivid pain. Michael could never get a full night’s sleep unless he was too drunk or too high to function. 

In the end he pushed everyone away, claiming he needed space, but he’d had nowhere else to actually go. So he barely worked, just enough to skate by, the rest of his days spent in tears and drowning in a bottles of booze or acetone, or both. 

Two weeks ago, Micheal somehow fought his way out of the haze, the dreamy fog, and realized he’d pissed away months of his life. 

First, he went to Max and Isobel. They were very clearly displeased with him and they let him know it. Apparently Isobel had been paying his bills and buying him groceries while he was too fucked up to care. Max had fixed numerous tickets, making most of the Drunk and Disorderly charges go away. He’d also dragged Michael back to his airstream on several occasions when he was too wasted to drive. Sometimes Max had found him in various spots around town, parked along the side of the road, passed out in his truck and covered in his own urine and vomit. Max would clean him up and get him safely back to the trailer. All this was news to Micheal, and it burned in his brain. He was ashamed and embarrassed, horrified even, by the utter loss of control over himself and his life. He hadn’t realized he was so far gone. A wave of unworthiness and disgust washed over him, reiterating to him how much he didn’t deserve the kindness and care Max and Isobel had given. Michael apologized profusely, promising them he was going to do better, be better. Eventually they both gave him a hug and assured him they were always his family. It is wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it had been a start. 

Next he tried going to Maria, but she didn’t want his apologies. She’d said he hadn’t been worth the friendship she’d lost by dating him, and while she wished him well, she wanted nothing more to do with him. That had hurt, a lot, but he kind of understood it too. He’d broken her heart, his heart never fully engaged in their relationship. 

So since then he’s been trying. Day by day. He hasn’t had the nerve to approach Alex before now, wanting to be more stable before trying to have any interactions. Tonight he feels ready. Michael’s been sober for ten days, actually getting stuff done at work, in between bouts of nausea and the sweats of detox. He’s been eating and drinking water, not feeling the best, but definitely more clear headed than any other time over the past year. 

With a big sigh he steps out of his truck and walks through the door of the bar. It’s tempting to grab a beer and maybe a shot of whisky, the smell in the air causing his mouth to water, but he resists. He finds a corner near the stage and stands there. The crowd is loud, too many people and too many noises, but he’s come all this way, and Michael’s determined to stay. 

Alex walks on stage and Michael’s heart starts to pound. Alex is wearing a well worn Sex Pistols T-shirt, tight black jeans and combat boots. His eyes are kholed with liner and his fingernails are painted black, a couple of rings on his fingers. His hair is longer, haphazardly spiked this way and that. He’s become the grownup version of Michael’s teenage dream, and Alex has never looked more beautiful. It’s like he’s comfortable in his own skin, settled, at ease. 

Alex smiles and waves to the audience, chuckling at their supportive hoots and howls. 

Sitting on a stool, guitar in his hands, Alex leans toward the mic. “Okay, okay. So this is my last song of the night.” Collective boos from the crowd. Alex laughs, “Trust me, I’ll be back with more next week.” 

Alex starts to strum his guitar, the crowd quieting, all of them as mesmerized by the man on stage as Michael is. Alex commands the room, every eye focused on him, confidence radiating from where he sits. Not an ounce of doubt on his face. He starts singing Brendon’s Death Song, and Michael’s breath catches. The song sounds different than the original, more melodic, more powerful. 

_ **If I die before I get it done** _

_ **Will you decide** _

_ **Take my words and turn them into sounds** _

_ **That will survive** _

_ **Because a long time ago** _

_ **I knew not to deprive** _

The lyrics call up a deep sense of loss and an ache of sadness in Micheal’s chest. 

As Alex sings, he alternates between looking out over the crowd and keeping his head bent, eyes half lidded. He’s stunning, in all his rocker glory, no longer hidden away or scared. 

_ **It’s safe out there and now you’re everywhere** _

_ **Just like the sky** _

_ **And you are love, you are the love supreme** _

_ **You are the rise** _

The music bombards Michael, seeping into him, stirring up emotions that are familiar, wanted, needed, scary.

_ **And when you hear this, you know it’s your jam** _

_ **It’s your goodbye** _

Alex’s voice strips him bare, cuts into Micheal, bringing forth anguish and heartache. Evoking tenderness and longing. Michael can’t move, afraid he’ll draw attention to himself, and that’s the last thing he wants right now. Michael’s raw and more vulnerable than he thought. This might have been a bad idea, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Michael tries to stand very still and will away the tears stinging behind his eyes. 

But then it happens, Alex sees him. Their eyes lock and Michael’s heart thunders at the way Alex looks at him. Alex’s face is open, relaxed, calm. His tone and inflection are expressive, heartfelt, and unbidden. 

The man doesn’t miss a single beat of music, and each chord, each note feels directed at Michael. 

_ **Like I said you know I’m almost dead** _

_ **You know I’m almost gone** _

Michael isn’t sure if he remembers how to breathe. 

** _And when the boatman comes _ **

** _To ferry me away_ **

** _To where we all belong_ **

He can’t look away, Alex has him locked in his gaze. 

_ **Let me live so when it’s time to die** _

_ **Even the reaper cries** _

The tears well quickly, rising to the very edges. 

_ **Let me die so when it’s time to live** _

_ **Another sun will rise** _

Michael clenches his hand in the material over his heart. He doesn’t know what to do or what this means. 

Alex closes his eyes, tilting his head back as he belts out the next part of the song.

Michael feels overwhelmed. The feelings are so strong they’re almost physical sensations, visceral reactions. The depth and passion in Alex’s voice, is too much, but somehow not nearly enough. Micheal craves more, even while his system is overloaded with stimulation and emotions.

Alex’s eyes land back on Michael’s, as he finishes the last verse of the song, drawing out the long sounds, sounding pained and perfect. 

_ **Like I said you know I’m almost dead** _

_ **You know I’m almost gone** _

The room erupts into applause and shouts. It takes Alex a moment to break away, turning to smile and wave to the audience. He thanks them, and heads off stage. 

It’s now or never. Something just happened between them, Michael _knows _it, and he’s got to get to Alex now. As the crowd goes back to chatting and drinking, he makes his way through the sea of people until he’s close to the stage stairs. Michael stops dead in his tracks. 

He sees Alex standing on the last step, his arms draped over Valenti’s shoulders. Alex is smiling as he leans down for a kiss, eyes closed, body loose, Kyle’s hands resting on those lean hips. 

Michael feels like he’s been sucker punched and he wants to throw up. His body starts shaking, sweat beading all over his skin. 

Their kiss doesn’t last long, and as they pull away they gaze at one another, giggling. Whispered words exchanged between them has Alex beaming, almost glowing with happiness. Kyle moves his hand, as if to clean a smudged edge of Alex’s eyeliner, and Michael wants to die. He’s wrecked, devastated by their intimacy. Jealous, even as his wretched heart knows he could never be good enough for what Alex Manes deserves. 

He can’t bear to see anymore. Alex didn’t even look around for him after the performance, not even an afterthought. Not cruel, just not enough to matter anymore. 

_Too much space, too much time lost._

Michael bolts out the door and gets into his truck, his eyes blurring from the tears he can no longer hold back. Fat drops roll down his cheeks, scalding him. 

He’s fucked it up, fucked it all up. 

_Lost it all. Gone. _

Michael reaches under his seat and pulls out a bottle of acetone. Steering his truck in the direction of the liquor store he feels hopeless, helpless, mangled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 💗


End file.
